


The Auction

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humour, M/M, Snippet, spy theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bondesque snippet inspired by Skyfall. <a href="http://rotrude.livejournal.com/170743.html">Sequel to this other Bondesque snippet</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Auction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterstorrm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstorrm/gifts).



There's a knock on the door. Well, the noise that wafts to Arthur's ears is more like a sequence of rhytmical raps that sounds suspiciously like the first notes of _Love Me Do_ than a proper knock. 

When he hears it, Arthur shuts his laptop, picks up his new gun, which he only begrudgingly admits is quite nifty, curses hotel security and flattens himself against the door, gun held between his hands, finger not quite touching the trigger but a hair's breadth from it. 

Bracing himself for an attack he says, “Yes?” in a short, clipped bark

At this point he's sure that the door will be kicked in and that armed mercenaries will swarm inside, shooting at and demolishing everything in their wake until they get at Arthur, when a voice he unfortunately knows very well replies, “It's Merlin!”

Arthur mutters the words, “Good grief,” through gritted teeth, rolls his eyes heavenwards, opens the door and pulls Merlin, whom he finds rocking on the balls of his feet, in like he would a fish he's reeling in. He says, “Use your own name more, will you.”

(Arthur has, in fact, established that Merlin _is_ Merlin, which might sound very Descartian if Arthur had the time or inclination to indulge such thoughts, and is surely very stupid of him to be sticking to.)

Huffing and puffing, Arthur slams the door to; Merlin winces but smiles on the heels of that. “I swiped the place, no problem," he says light-heartedly. "And no one followed me. I made sure.”

“You evidently didn't make sure you got the right address,” Arthur says, slinging the gun in its holster.

“Oh, I'm in the right place,” Merlin says, toddling over to occupy Arthur's former chair.

“They can't have sent you,” Arthur says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You've given me the goodies. Your job's done.”

“Not quite,” Merlin says, swiping a finger across the lid of Arthur's laptop. He levers it upwards, to be greeted by a screen requiring he enter Arthur's password to access all programs. Merlin starts typing fast even as he speaks. “I've come to bring more gadgetry.”

“I don't need more gadgetry!” Arthur says. As much as he's come to love his new gun he's a hands-on type of bloke. Give him a gadgetless fight any day. “I simply have to buy the item and secure it before even more people find out that the list has been concealed inside it.”

“Ha,” Merlin says, looking affably at the screen. “I see you ended up guessing the HD password.”

“Have you hacked my laptop?” Arthur screeches, bustling over.

Merlin looks fondly at him. “Section Q, 006. Section Q.”

Arthur storms over to Merlin and forces the lid down again. “Paws off,” he says. “There's confidential material in there you're not cleared for.”

Merlin bites on his lower lip. “You'd be surprised to find out what I'm cleared for actually.”

“You tampered with my laptop!” Arthur says, ignoring Merlin's remark because aneurysm lies at the end of that road.

“Yeah,” Merlin admits cheerfully. “And I reset the password. If you want to get the new one you'll have to take me to the Christie's auction.”

Arthur tries his computer, pressing keys to send it out of standby. When the passwords screen appears he types in his. The password is, of course, wrong. Merlin's changed it.

Arthur grunts. He knows there's no way for him to retrieve the password bar asking help from Merlin. He got the code granting him an in into that HD drive only thanks to a stroke of luck – thinking as he believed Merlin would, that is to say unflatteringly when it comes to Arthur – and a lot of cursing with one of Gaius' old underlings over the phone. As Arthur manfully panicked, the underling kept swearing that Merlin was the best and that "There's no cracking his codes". But Merlin had meant for him to find the password to the HD from the start and that is why Arthur was able to find it, eventually.

If he wanted to blackmail Arthur into bringing him to the auction, then Arthur would never chance upon the right alphanumerical sequence that would get him his computer - or rather use thereof -- back. He might get another laptop; but the data he needs is still inside the one Merlin has practically pirated. Besides, he can't go to M saying that he lost it so stupidly. Unfortunately, he has to find the patience to negotiate with Merlin. 

Mostly he needs to fool him into giving up the bloody password. Scowling deeply, he says, “That auction is private, guests only. It took Six months of under cover work to get me -- or rather my alias -- an invitation to their exclusive event.”

Merlin stands. “I see.”

Arthur's shoulders go down in relief. “Good. Glad to see you can be reasonable. Now give me my pass—”

“I'm afraid you'll have to pull strings to get me that invite.”

“But,” Arthur says, a muscle jumping in his jaw, “I told you it's near impossible. All the guests are vetted. My under cover persona was devised a long time ago so that I'd have all the credentials necessary to fool the enemy into thinking I'm none other than a businessman with multiple bank accounts in the Caymans. You, on the other hand--” Arthur gesticulates to prove that Merlin has no alias, no staged persona. "Don't." For Merlin's no-one. More. He's a twenty-something who's scruffy and unkempt most of the time. He's not what a self-respecting man of the world would look like at all. He'd never pass as one. And that auction is only open to a certain clientele.

Merlin pre-empts him though. “I can build a fake identity from scratch. Remember? IT genius.”

“Humble,” Arthur comments. “But that's not all. I'm going to butt heads with a number of extremely sadistic goons who'll be vying for the same item as me. It's going to be dangerous.”

Merlin snorts. “I'm with MI6, remember?”

“And we're not even sure the drive is concealed in the item we think it's stored in,” Arthur says. “I might have to think on my feet, test the objects for presence of the drive—”

“Gadget person here.” Merlin raises his hand as if he were in a classroom.

“Steal--” Arthur continues, cheeks puffing in annoyance. "Break into private offices. Kill perhaps."

“Either you take me to that auction or you'll have to tell M you lost the data it took his office weeks to collect.”

Arthur throws his hands up in the air, growling loudly. “Fine, come. Hopefully, a hitman will kill you and deliver us from your presence.”

Merlin rubs his hands together. “Great, I'll have my evening jacket and bow time made. Bespoke. Just like yours.”

He skips towards the door with a spring to his step. He's almost out when Arthur realises that Merlin's going without sticking to his side of the bargain. “Wait, the password!”

Before the door clicks softy shut, Merlin calls after him. “I'll text it to you. The day of the auction.”


End file.
